The Twelve Months: A Midwinter's Tale
by GHTlovesTHG
Summary: On the longest night of the year, Katniss experiences the shortest twelve months of her life. Everlark Fairytale AU. PiP Holiday Round Submission
1. Chapter 1

**The Twelve Months: A Midwinter Tale**

_By GhtlovesThg_

_On the longest night of the year, Katniss experiences the shortest twelve months of her life. Everlark Fairytale AU._

_*~*~ _**1 **_~*~*_

Katniss trudged heavily through the snow, not even worrying about scaring off potential game. There was none to be found; the few half-starved squirrels she'd bagged at dusk seemed to be the only animals foolish enough to be out of a den, burrow or nest on this bitterly cold night.

It was far too dark for further hunting or tracking. She should be home. Hunting in this light was not only pointless, but dangerous as well, a fact her stepmother and stepsister didn't concern themselves with. They kept her home all day completing the chores and tasks they didn't wish to, yet still expected a full day's haul of game after preventing her from setting out until late afternoon. As the nights got longer and colder, Katniss couldn't help but wonder if they hoped that one night, she wouldn't come back at all.

And even though the cold was so sharp as to be painful, she wasn't hurrying home, either. These woods, hollow and lonely in the crisp silence of the night, felt more like home now than the cottage by the woods where she'd grown up. Katniss could feel her father here. He had been the last of her kin to leave her, and his spirit somehow permeated the spaces between the branches. She often thought she saw him, darting between tree trunks out of the corner of her eye. But whenever she turned to look, she'd catch only the edge of a mockingjay wing, the bird flitting away to a place she couldn't follow.

Perhaps he had not found Prim and her mother yet, in that other world, so he stuck close, clinging to the familiar before moving on. But for his sake, she hoped he was with them. There was little worth staying for here- she should know.

Her feet slowed on the path. The trees felt like monuments to her family. At one time, their livelihood and happiness had originated here: her mother foraging, her father hunting and trapping, she and Prim running wild all over these woods. Their memory called to her on her hunts. The wind whistled through tangled branches, over gnarled, knotted trunks, whispering for her to come closer, step off the path and let the dark, sentinel-like forms enclose her, shelter her in their swaying arms.

It was tempting. Perhaps she'd never find the path again. Katniss wondered if the quiet that invited her deeper into the forest could lead her to her loved ones. All she'd have to do was wish her father's bow a final goodnight and leave it on the worn trail for Woodcutter Hawthorne to find. They'd all assume she'd been attacked by some wild creature or spirited away by some fantastical being. The quiet, foreboding promise of the darkened wood sounded far preferable to the beating she'd likely receive upon returning home with only a few squirrels in her game bag.

Her stepmother didn't take well to disappointment, nor perceived disobedience. Though the woman had once been married to a baker, there was nothing sweet about her or the cruel daughter she'd named for a spice. Katniss had never been able to understand why her grieving father remarried the baker's bitter widow, bringing the woman and Clove into their lives. Katniss feared he had done it for her, to make sure she would not be left alone should something happen to him, as it had. In the end, his efforts hadn't mattered. Despite sharing a cottage with her step family, there was no one left that Katniss loved.

The forest's silent invitation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a man crying out in distress. Katniss quickly turned and peered into a different patch of trees, noticing a faint light in the distance. Worried that the brusque but goodhearted woodcutter had met with some danger – these woods were full of wild dogs, beasts especially reckless when hungry in this desperate season- she nocked an arrow and ran towards his direction to help.

However, it was not Gale she found, but an older man in military garb. He was laying in the snow, groaning in pain, a large tree limb pinning his leg to the ground. The man was stretching and flailing, contorting his body in an effort to get a grip on the damp wood to roll it off him. Katniss hastened to his side, eager to assist him.

"Oh Miss! Thank God! I can't get enough leverage on this branch to get my foot out. The damn thing just snapped under the weight of the snow and came down on me. I'm lucky I was able to get the rest of me out of the way when I did!"

The heavy snow had a tendency to send dead tree limbs down to the ground with alarming speed. As Katniss heaved and pushed at the branch, she was slowly able to roll it enough for the man to extricate his foot.

"Are you badly hurt?" she asked breathlessly once he'd yanked free.

"It's sprained, I think," he said, "and I'm damned lucky that's all. I think the snow cover helped to cushion the impact. If you hadn't happened upon me, I don't know if I could have worked it off of my leg. I could have died of exposure."

Katniss nodded in agreement. It was uncommonly lucky that she'd been nearby when it had happened and not once he'd frozen to death.

"I'm Captain Boggs, Miss. May I inquire as to the name of my hale little savior?"

Katniss flushed and bowed a sloppy curtsy. She was merely a peasant villager, she'd never conversed with a captain in the King's military. "Katniss Everdeen, sir."

"And pray tell," he inquired,"what could bring one such as yourself out on this bitterly cold evening? Shouldn't you be at home, warm by the fire?"

Katniss averted her eyes. She really preferred not to discuss her home life. "What of you, sir? How does this night find a soldier of the imperial guard in a common wood?"

At this, Boggs threw his head back and boomed a great, deep laugh, "A soldier at my age! Bless you for saying so! But I'm not just any captain my dear, I am the Captain of the Guard! I report directly to King Coriolanus."

Katniss' eyes widened in disbelief. She was standing and chatting with the highest ranking military commander in the land.

"And I am here to find a tree," he added.

"A tree?" It seemed he had achieved his task, as they were surrounded on all sides by them. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Yes, but not just _any_ tree," he clarified. "I have been given the..._honor_ of finding the most perfect tree in all the forest, one fit for the grand ballroom of the Snow palace. Beautiful enough to compete with the gold and jewels that will adorn its boughs, and big enough to spread over the gifts sent to the royal family from all over the land."

"But why should the king send his best military adviser out on such a night, just for a tree?"

"Ah, but the king didn't send me," he explained sadly. "It was his granddaughter who ordered me here."

"Has she no respect for your position or well being?"

"I'm afraid not," he sighed. "It seems she thinks finding the perfect fir is just the sort of task that should occupy the Captain of the Guard. And as she is next in line for the throne, I am bound to obey her to the the exclusion of all, save the King, who is known for indulging her every whim."

"Well, surely a lesson will be learned when she has to send someone out all over again tomorrow. Let's hope she sends a woodsmen next time, and during daylight. Here, I'll help you back on your horse and you can return and soak your foot," Katniss directed.

"Miss, I cannot return without that tree," he protested. "I would be severely punished! Snow may not care for the task itself, but he cares greatly about insolence and disobedience- especially from high ranking officers and officials! Once an order is issued, by himself or his granddaughter, one must obey. The more lofty your position, the more eager King Coriolanus is to remove you from it. Now, I would appreciate assistance back on my horse, but I shall continue searching for the tree," he insisted.

Katniss surveyed the scene. The horse was hitched to a long, narrow sled, undoubtedly intentioned for carrying a fir tree. A sturdy axe was affixed to the saddle. Sighing, she stooped to brace Captain Boggs with her shoulder, slinging her arm under his own as he hobbled to his horse with her support.

She knew that the later it got, the more she'd be made to regret returning home. But she couldn't leave Captain Boggs here, injured, as the deathly cold of the night settled around them like fog.

"I know of just the tree. I'll take you to it."

He looked like he wanted to protest for her sake, but she stared at him, determination in her eyes, decision already made. He had to know he'd never accomplish his task in his poorly state.

"Thank you, child."

Once he was on his mount, Katniss drew the reins into her hands and led the horse forward slowly, weaving through trees in silence.

"You never told me why a young girl is alone in a treacherous forest at night," Boggs reminded gently.

Katniss sighed. "I am tasked with bringing home a game bag full of rabbits and fowl."

"Surely that's impossible, in this dark, with the scarcity of this winter," the knight captain protested.

Katniss merely nodded her agreement. What was there to say?

The silence lapsed once more.

"Well, you deserve much better, my lass. If I ever find myself in a position to help you, I shall certainly endeavor to do so."

She turned to look back at him, touched. "Thank you."

"And how did you come to know the location of this tree?"

Katniss smiled. "My father knew the wending animal trails of this wood better than the lines of his own palm. You'd think he'd been the playmate of fawns and fox kits as a child. Though he showed me as much as he could before he died, there are a great many areas I do not know as well as he did."

Katniss didn't usually like talking about her father, it was too painful, but somehow tonight, in his woods with a man who spoke to her with kindness, something she'd not heard since her father was alive, Katniss suddenly needed to talk about him again.

"This evergreen is deep enough in the wood that even our woodcutter, Gale Hawthorne, has not found it. And a good thing, for it is far too majestic for kindling. If it must be cut, it deserves to have it's boughs laden in precious metals and gems."

When they finally entered a clearing, the tree in question came into view, its deep green branches glittering under a blanket of snow, spreading its reach across the space like a bird stretching its wings to display magnificent plumage. The stillness of the clearing made one feel as though the whole forest was holding its breath in deference to the splendor of the arbor. Boggs knew he would have nothing to fear when returning to the palace.

"As splendid as this tree is, there is an even greater beauty in this wood," Katniss continued quietly. "It's deeper in the forest than I've ventured alone. I've only seen it once and never since, but it was shown to me by my father. A lake as round as a perfect saltwater pearl, with a willow tree, massive and ancient, leaning over the water. The tree dips leafy tendrils into the currents, rippling the mirror's edge of the water.

"I wish I could see it again," Katniss whispered.

She shook herself from her nostalgic reverie. "I suppose I'll do the chopping, as I've never seen a man fell a tree on an injured foot." And before Boggs could agree or protest, Katniss had unfastened the axe from the saddle and approached the trunk.

The forest shook with the resonating thuds and thwacks of an axe and its wielder, determined to save the life of an old soldier on a cold winter's evening.

_*~*~ _**2** ~*_~*_

King Coriolanus twisted his mouth into a sort of sardonic grimace. Everything, everywhere, was white. The balustrades were festooned in garlands and banners of the finest, palest silk. Exquisite glass icicles and snowflakes hung from every lintel and dangled from the vaulted ceilings. The halls were simply choked with white roses. Each chandelier dripped with an abundance of lit candles, and the tree was laden with white poinsettia and white-gold ornaments inlaid with opals. The servants had decorated its branches through the night since its arrival yesterday.

Despite standing in the midst of the most lavish winter wonderland the kingdom had ever seen, his granddaughter was pouting.

"Whatever is the matter, my dove?" Coriolanus chimed with great disinterest.

"It's all these roses! They throw the whole thing off. Roses are better suited to the summer, they don't belong in my winter fairyland! I want a different flower for the halls of the palace!" she complained.

The king narrowed snake-like, rheumy eyes at his last living heir. His granddaughter was the dearest to him of all his relations. That wasn't saying much. The majority of his family had died by his own hand.

One by one, he had suspected each member of the Snow line was plotting for his throne, and had acted accordingly. His foolish little granddaughter, named for money itself, was as covetous and grasping as he was paranoid and heartless. And in this, her blatant, irredeemable avarice, he could relate to her with his own hunger for power. Had she been older, he would have poisoned her, for she'd never be able to resist lusting for the throne. As it was, he would be deteriorating just as she was coming of age, so he had let her live, to continue the family's rule.

"Then you must choose a different flower, my blossom. Whichever you desire. We shall fill the halls with them," he answered. He turned back to his one-man chess game.

"Well then I want _Galanthus nivalis_!"

"The _common_ snowdrop? Isn't that a wildflower?" he inquired with disgust.

"Yes, but it's beautiful, and even bears our namesake! It will be perfect. None shall ever forget a palace full of galanthus in the yuletide," she boasted.

"As you say, my jewel," Snow muttered, eager to have the conversation done with. "Now leave the rest to me. Plutarch! Plutarch Heavensbee!"

Once the Prime Minister answered his summons, Princess Coin's desires were communicated.

"B-but," he spluttered, "galanthus won't be in bloom until spring! It's simply _impossible_ to get enough to fill these halls," Plutarch protested.

"You filled them with roses, didn't you? And roses aren't winter flowers either!" Coin insisted petulantly.

"Yes, but we have hothouses full of them, as they are your grandfather's personal favorite, and the official flower of the kingdom," Minister Heavensbee reasoned.

Snow growled as he took another pawn with his white king. This nonsense was distracting him from maneuvering into a position to fell the dark queen.

"Heavensbee!" Snow boomed. "I do not care _how_ you do it, but I want to see the palace full of snowdrops by yuletide! And _don't_ disappoint me!" he growled.

Trembling, Minister Heavensbee hurried from the room.

*~*~ **3** ~*~*

Katniss winced as she set a bowl of the coarse grain allotted by the king to his subjects under the apple tree. Merah had not been impressed with the squirrels last night, and had made it known – in the form of a line of deep purple bruises all down Katniss' arm.

Her stepmother and stepsister were getting ready to go into town. Clove wanted to select some shawls and maybe a basket to use in the new year, and Merah had planned on trading game for spending money. When she had failed to deliver, Merah stormed into her little room and grabbed the pelts Katniss was saving for a new blanket as restitution. On her way out, she'd spied Katniss' mockingjay pin, a precious gift from her father, and taken that as well. Katniss was enraged, and half tempted to physically force her to return it – heaven knew she was skilled with bow and arrow – but the memory of her family stopped her. She knew her father, mother, and most especially her sister Prim wouldn't want her to stoop to their level and use violence to get her way.

So instead, she held her tears and consoled herself by feeding the mockingjays, the one animal she would never hunt, for her father had loved them so. They gathered in the gnarled old apple tree, eagerly anticipating the grain she regularly set out, and it was one of the few things that still brought her joy to see.

She was so diverted watching them hop about and whistle to each other that she didn't hear Merah and Clove exit the house.

"Are you wasting what little we have on _birds_?" Merah shrieked.

Clove laughed spitefully as she carved an apple into wedges. "Well I guess she can do whatever she'd like with her supper. Just make sure that's all the food she gets today."

As Katniss glared at Clove, she saw the girl smirk, considering the mockingjays. Raising her arm, she hurled the knife she'd been using toward the feeding birds.

It lodged itself in the trunk of the tree with a resounding thud, and the birds scattered in terror. Katniss could barely breathe, still recovering from the fear that Clove had hit one.

"See if they let you feed them after that!" Clove gloated.

"And to make sure you don't go on wasting food," Merah continued, "I'm locking the house up tight. We need kindling anyways, and chopping firewood ought to keep you warm enough until we're back." With that, Merah tucked the key into her pocket and they started on their way.

Katniss sat at the foot of the apple tree, shaking in anger and eating what was left of the hard grains in the dish she'd brought out. This would be her only meal today. _She_ was the one that provided food for the family, yet it was she who continually suffered at the whims of Clove and Merah. As she ground the tough grains between her teeth, she wondered just how much more of this she could take.

Luckily, chopping firewood did indeed keep one warm. But after she'd been at it several hours, there were no more logs to split, unless she went back into the forest. That she did not want to do. Katniss had sweat in her exertion, and the air was rapidly cooling the damp layers of her clothing. She was quickly becoming chilled and hoped they'd return soon, as the temperature was dropping as night drew nearer. It also looked like a snowstorm was approaching. She tried to keep moving for warmth, but the extended exertion of the past hours had exhausted her.

When the two finally returned a good hour and three quarters after she'd finished, she was shivering. But once Katniss saw the appraising look in their eyes, gleaming with greed, and the basket clutched tightly in Clove's fist, her shivers were of a whole new kind. By now she was huddled at the door, waiting for them to open it, but they made no move to do so.

"By order of King Coriolanus, Prime Minister Heavensbee has promised a basketful of gold to anyone who can bring galanthus blooms to the palace!" Clove announced excitedly.

Katniss didn't need to consult her parent's plant book to know there would be no baskets of gold given to the kingdom's subjects this year. Finding galanthus simply wasn't possible in December. She watched them tiredly, wondering what the excitement on their faces meant for her, and when she'd be able to go inside and get warm.

"You know the forest better than anybody Katniss, and if it weren't for _your _laziness, we'd have the money we need for the things we want! So it should be you who finds the galanthus!" Merah declared.

Katniss stumbled to her feet in shock. "What? But that's impossible, you know that! Even if I _wanted _to collect some, I couldn't! It's just a waste of time!"

She wanted to offer that her time could be much better spent hunting, a pursuit that might actually yield some reward, but Katniss was starting to fear she'd be sent into the woods in the approaching blizzard if such a suggestion was made.

"Don't be so difficult! You're good at foraging, I'm sure you'll manage to find some in no time! Now I want you to _fill _this basket- the more flowers, the more gold!

Katniss shook her head, clinging to the door. They couldn't be serious. It was a fool's errand, and on this night, a deadly one.

But Clove yanked her back, and Merah edged herself between Katniss and the doorway. Pushing the basket into her arms and giving her a great shove backwards, Clove sent Katniss sprawling. Famished and exhausted from chopping firewood for hours, Katniss landed in a heap on the ground.

The other women rushed up the steps and into the house, locking the door behind them with an audible click. But not before Merah called out, "Don't even think about showing your face here again without the galanthus!"

Katniss dragged herself to her feet and pounded on the door, but her efforts were met with silence. She tried to fight the wave of the despair that hovered, threatening to wash over her and render her useless, but she was only able to hold back the tears. She was going to die tonight.

For a time, Katniss stayed there, trying to get her panicked breathing under control and banging periodically on the wood in desperation. But the door didn't budge, and there was no indication they would come around.

She turned shakily and looked to the forest. Whatever it may be, her fate lay before her among those trees. As she approached the tree line, Katniss wasn't sure if she was entering the woods to succumb to the elements where her family felt closest, or whether she was going to try and find galanthus through some miracle. Perhaps she could reach Woodcutter Hawthorne's shack before the storm hit.

She set forth.

_*~*~ _**4** _~*~*_

The snow was blinding. Wind whipped the drifts almost horizontally, lashing her numb, throbbing cheeks in stinging droves. She hadn't been able to keep track of the trail, and in this weather, Katniss couldn't recognize any of her surroundings.

She could be sure of very little. For certain, there was no galanthus anywhere. She also should have reached Gale's cabin ages ago, as she'd been struggling through the blizzard for hours. Lastly, Katniss knew she couldn't go on much longer.

Her limbs were shaking violently. Entire sections of her hair had been tugged from her braid by the wind and were plastered wetly to her face and neck. Katniss' tattered flannel coat had soaked through rapidly, and she'd lost the feeling in her extremities hours ago.

The blinding whiteness around her was unending. Unseen roots, stones, and branches seemed to leap out of nowhere to trip her up, and it was getting harder and harder to force herself back to her feet each time.

The forest didn't exist, the trees were gone. There was only an unforgiving, impenetrable wall of snow. And she was so, so tired. Katniss had been ravenous earlier, after her paltry meal of grains, but that was long forgotten. Nothing could compete with the exhaustion overwhelming her body.

She'd never escape these woods, never see the end of this storm. Knowing that, what was the point of struggling on? She wanted to be warm again. She wanted to feel loved. But most of all, she just needed to sleep. There had been little hope at the outset, and now nothing sounded better than stopping and resting her weary form.

Staggering to the side, Katniss tried to dodge some twigs that tore at her hair. Her foot caught on a twisted root, sending her heavily to the ground once more. This time, she stayed down. Katniss laid there, surrounded by deep piles of snow. Heavy flakes quickly settled on her, obscuring the darkness of her form and reddish coat among the prevailing white. She marveled that she could barely feel the cold now.

She didn't have it in her to get back up. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, Katniss accepted what this meant for her. A single tear dropped onto her icy cheek. The contrast in temperature was so drastic it felt as though it had burned her, and she gave a little sob of fear as she wondered what, if anything, lay ahead.

"Mother," she croaked. "Oh, Prim. Father! Where are you?" But only the wind replied.

Katniss buried her face in her arms and finally let her lids droop, waiting for them to find her.

_*~*~ _**5** _~*~*_

Gradually, she noticed the howl of the wind die down. Her senses must finally be deserting her then, her body giving in and shutting down. She waited.

But the next thing she was aware of puzzled her greatly. Katniss heard the chirps and trills of mockingjays, clear as day and very close. She dragged her head up just far enough to crack an eyelid.

There was no wind, no storm. Everything was still and beautifully pristine. Mockingjays were everywhere in the trees, perched on each branch. She must have died, then, as this was impossible. Mockingjays were one of the few birds that overwintered, but the number present had to include every last one that inhabited these woods.

It was then that she noticed the light filtering eerily through the trees ahead. She glanced back up to the birds, as if for guidance, but they simply watched her, fluttering their wings and cocking their heads in interest.

The silvery rays set the icy branches aglow, and Katniss caught her breath at the beauty of it. Pale beams rippled in the air, undulating in tones of rosy orange and cool gray. Was this Heaven then? Was it truly as simple as walking into the beautiful, mysterious light before her?

When the light continued shining, Katniss forced herself to stand. With great effort, she fought her way onto trembling limbs and inched in its direction. She feared her body would not be strong enough to make it, short as the distance was. To give herself strength and courage, Katniss whispered her father's favorite song. It was a song of the acceptance of death, and her gesture of acquiescence for release and relief.

"_Are you, are you  
Coming to the tree"_

She was getting closer, and the treeline was thinning. The forest was slowly opening to a clearing. Katniss' body ached and screamed in agony, but she knew that respite depended upon reaching the light.

"_Where I told you to run so we'd both be free."_

The mockingjays quickly took up her song, reciting it back to her in powerful, mellifluous notes. Her voice grew louder as they encouraged her on.

"_Strange things did happen here,  
No stranger would it be  
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree –" _

As she broke past the treeline into the clearing, Katniss squinted into the source of the blinding light, her feet propelling her onward. As her eyes adjusted, she didn't know what to think. Something extraordinary was afoot.

She'd found her father's lake. It was perfectly round, as she'd remembered, and quite frozen. The bare branches of the willow tree loomed darkly on the opposite shore. What she didn't recall having seen before was the glow emanating from the ice, pearlescent patterns of light shifting and glittering in softly muted shades of silver. But the strangest thing of all had to be the group of people standing in the very center of the ice, gathered around a massive fire; one of flames the color of a rosy sunset. The blaze cast a soft orange glow on the planes of their faces.

Faces that were turned in her direction, regarding Katniss with various expressions of curiosity, disdain, annoyance, and amusement. This couldn't be Heaven. Her limbs still felt impossibly heavy and fatigue and weakness still pressed on her. Katniss didn't know who these people were, but they had a fire going, which was a start.

As she tried to force her feet into the steps required to take her onto the surface of the lake, her gaze caught on a pair of impossibly blue eyes just as her body finally gave out, collapsing in a heap on the lake shore.

_*~*~ _**6**_~*~*_

The first thing she grew cognizant of was the frustration and annoyance of the woman speaking. And the volume. As Katniss gradually regained her senses, her mind began to catch distinct phrases, as it honed in on the speaker's ire.

"She's merely a _mortal thing_. Scarcely worth your time, Twelve!"

Katniss next noted the sensation of a hand gently carding through her hair, sweeping strands from her cheeks and smoothing wisps off her brow. It was cool and soothing. It felt magnificent. Which lead to her realization that the hand's coolness felt so good because she was so _warm_.

"How can I waste my time if I have endless amounts of it to give?" The reply came from nearby, the voice velvety and tinged with amusement.

The smell of baking spices was everywhere: cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves, all the flavors one might hope to taste on a cold winter night, cuddled up by the fire with a plateful of sweets.

"Besides, if any one mortal was deserving of notice, it would have to be this one," the male voice added with appreciative warmth.

She languidly pulled her eyelids apart, blinking to dispel her disorientation. She was curled up, soaking in delicious warmth. As Katniss rose to her elbows, she felt the material blanketing her slip down, and turned to see that she was practically buried in a pile of luxurious furs.

A small, cheery fire crackled nearby, the same soft orange as the one she'd witnessed earlier. Katniss felt no heat emanating from it, and knew it must be enchanted. The cozy warmth that enveloped her, she realized, was simply her own body heat, effectively trapped by the furs draped over her.

"Ah, you've rejoined us," the nearby voice crooned softly.

She turned to identify its owner, and found herself face to face with a breathtakingly arresting young man. He'd apparently been keeping vigil over her, as he was seated right at her side. He had skin as fine and white as porcelain, and soft, kind features. His hair was a halo of pale golden curls, and his cheeks and lips were as colorless as his deep blue eyes were vivid. The corners of his lips were curled in delight and his eyes glittered like a starry winter night. Katniss found she couldn't look away.

A derisive snort off to the side broke her from her singular focus. She glanced up to see at least ten others standing around her on the lake shore. Each person was more stunningly beautiful than the last, in a foreign, otherworldly way, though none had the welcoming demeanor of the man next to her. Katniss found their stares unsettling in their detached perfection, and none looked so hostile as the short woman directly in front of her. As an annoyed glare was directed her way, Katniss felt sure she had found the source of the angry voice.

"Siblings," the young man said, "I think some breathing room for our guest is in order."

Her audience migrated to other spots along the shore, departing with varying looks of interest. None of them seemed bothered by the frigid temperature, or unhappy to be in the middle of nowhere in the dead of the night.

From the earlier talk of mortals, the enchanted fire, and the unearthly quality of all present, Katniss knew she must be dealing with some sort of magical entities. The woods in this part of the world were purportedly full of enchantments.

And one of them had saved her. She didn't' feel ill at ease. Somehow, she knew she could trust the man at her side.

Once they were relatively alone, he turned back to her. "How are you feeling?" he inquired solicitously.

"Better than I have in some time," she breathed.

"I'm glad. I thought my storm claimed you unfairly for a moment. I can't imagine why you would brave the elements on this of all nights."

He paused expectantly, waiting for a reply. _His_ storm? Could he be a spirit of the weather? And what an explanation was in order! A life almost lost for wildflowers! Instead of answering, she blushed in embarrassment and looked away.

When it was apparent that nothing from her lips would be forthcoming, he touched a finger to the back of her hand to regain her attention. She gave a little shiver at the cool contact and her gray eyes returned to his.

"What are you called?" His words were the soft whisper of wind on powdery snow.

"Katniss."

He smiled knowingly. "_Sagittaria_. A flower named for the archer constellation, the heavenly body in which the sun transits during my reign. How beautiful."

His words were bewitching, but Katniss didn't completely understand them.

"How are you known?" she asked.

"While my brethren most often call me Twelve, I am formally known as December," he replied. "I don't have a name in the common way, though.

"You may give me one, if you'd like," he offered, with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Katniss was thoroughly confused. _December?_ At this point, she assumed she was dealing with some form of forest spirits. She had heard fantastical tales of such in her childhood, after all. Glancing around, she noticed there were exactly eleven other individuals at the lake. Could he actually be the corporeal embodiment of the month of December?

He was still waiting in hopeful anticipation. She supposed it was a great honor to name him, whatever he was, but she didn't know all that many names, just the common ones used by fellow villagers. The most whimsical name she'd come across was Gale, and while the man at her side had claimed ownership of a fearsome storm, the tempestuous title didn't seem to fit the concern and kindness she'd seen in his eyes, the caring he'd shown in covering her with furs and staying at her side.

The furs slipped down her shoulders and back as she sat up straighter, accepting the weight of the task. Thinking of all the names she knew, she cast about for the one that sounded the kindest and most generous. Katniss settled upon Peter, surely the sweetest sounding boy's name she knew.

But as she voiced her decision aloud, a chill wind swept past, causing her uncovered shoulders to shake and her teeth to chatter, garbling the end of her pronouncement.

"Peeta it is then," he said happily, his smile as blinding as a winter morning blanketed in fresh snow. He reached over to draw the fur back around her shoulders.

It suited him, she thought.

"I think our meeting and my christening calls for celebration." Peeta's eyes sparkled in excitement. "I hope you'll join me," he added, and suddenly Katniss was surrounded by the biggest holiday feast she'd ever set eyes on.

There was stuffed roasted fowl, hot chestnuts, and mincemeat pie. Cookies, and puddings, and cakes of all kinds. Pots of piping hot chocolate and carafes of mulled wine. Everywhere she looked, there were more delicious treats: marzipan and candied nuts, tangerines and sugar plums.

_How was this possible? _She didn't know where to begin.

"Here," he said. "Start with these."

Peeta placed two Christmas rolls in her hands, and her first bite revealed the sweet bread was studded with candied fruits and heartily chopped nuts. It was dense and heavy, more like cake than bread really. Katniss had never tasted anything so delicious, and suspected she'd be echoing that thought when sampling each new dish.

Next he poured a mug of hot chocolate and pushed it in her direction. "Try dipping it."

She did so and moaned at the resulting combination of flavors. Bolstered by his encouragement, Katniss heartily dug into the feast before her.

When she could eat no more, she sighed in contented bliss, nourished by all the delicious treats of December. Peeta watched her with a pleased smile as he crunched on a stick of peppermint candy. She observed him in return.

"Do you _need_ to eat?" she couldn't help wondering aloud.

"No," Peeta admitted, "but I certainly enjoy it. Especially considering the edible delights reserved for the time of my reign."

Yes, Katniss supposed that if she could choose a specific time of year for its food, it would definitely be December."

"Tell me about yourself," he prompted.

She shrugged sleepily and laid back, full and satiated. "There's not much to tell. My stepmother would say I'm ungrateful and insolent. I would say I'm stubborn and good with a bow. Otherwise fairly average. Nothing special."

Peeta leaned back on his elbow beside her. "I would have to disagree."

"I have no friends to speak of. Nor family," she whispered sadly. His expression echoed her remorse, and she wondered at her willingness to talk to him. She was usually a rather reluctant speaker.

"What of you? What are your brothers and sisters like?" Perhaps she could determine exactly what she was dealing with here.

"You are familiar with certain aspects of them already. My brethren and I embody the twelve calendar months. We are responsible for the passage of the year, the changing weather, and overseeing the rites of man associated therein. During our respective reigns, we travel the earth, subtly shifting the season to suit our temperament When we have ruled for one moon, we step aside for the next of us to continue.

"I am last. I wrap up the work my kin has done in preparation for the next cycle of the new year. Physically I most closely resemble my two eldest siblings, January and February," he added, nodding in the direction of a male and female standing separate and aloof from the rest.

They were similarly pale, but couldn't be further from him in manner. The female had long, white-blonde hair and a harsh beauty, with no glimmer of inner warmth. The male was tall and powerful looking, but his mien spoke of a nature as brutal as a lengthy winter.

"Though to be honest, I get along with April, July and November much better," he admitted.

As if summoned by his words, the abrasive female from before approached and addressed Peeta. "Are you finally ready to continue?" Her eyes swept over Katniss. "She looks fine now, and _you _called us all here to perform the Midwinter rite. Let's close the year and be done with it! I have better things to do than stand on a frozen lake listening to March prattle incessantly!"

_That's right_, Katniss thought. _It's the winter solstice, the longest night of the year._ Many believed the year began anew after this night. That it was a time of rebirth and new beginnings. Reflecting on her anguish earlier and her position of comfort and safety now, she hoped it was so.

"We'll continue shortly Seven," he assured, before looking back at Katniss. "But first I must know what brought you to the woods this night Katniss, and if you require assistance before you return home." His eyes were bright and encouraging.

Katniss' heart sank. She didn't want to go back. She hadn't felt this welcomed, this happy, since her parents and Prim had been alive. She was comfortable with Peeta, she felt cared for and appreciated, even in the scant time they'd interacted. And she was intrigued by his good humor and friendliness. She wanted to see more of it.

Plus, her task would sound so outlandish. Even to a preternatural entity. Her face burned to the roots of her hair, which caught the attention of July, who stuck around to hear her answer.

"I'm in search of galanthus blooms," she admitted.

Peeta's eyebrows rose in surprise, but his reaction was nothing to the resounding bellows of laughter from July. "_Galanthus!_ What are you, _brainless_?"

Katniss grimaced as July continued, "Four, get over here, you've got to hear this!"

A vigorous man, handsome and alluring with all the virility of spring, was soon at Seven's side. He stooped to pluck a sugar plum from a dish laden in sweets as July spoke.

"Looks like you've got an admirer, because she's looking for galanthus. Guess you'll just have to string her along until spring!"

April flashed her a smile as bright and clear as the sky after a sun shower. He offered Katniss the sugar-dusted candy. Once she'd declined, he popped it in his mouth and spoke. "Never fear, little one," he cooed. "They'll be here come spring, I promise."

Sadly, this did nothing to help her. December seemed to sense this, as she felt his cool touch on her hand once more.

"Why do you seek snowdrops?"

"The ruler of this land has offered a reward in gold for galanthus delivered before yuletide," she explained, as several other months came to see what so amused July and April.

"Foolish mortal! Risking your life out of simple greed! I told you she wasn't worth your time, Twelve!" July crowed.

Peeta glared at the offending woman reproachfully, before looking at Katniss with concern in his eyes. "Do you truly need the gold so badly?"

"It's true I don't have much, but I can still survive. I wouldn't be out tonight, but for my relations demanding a basket of galanthus in exchange for a place by our hearth," Katniss elaborated with no little shame.

Peeta's brow furrowed and his eyes iced over with fury. "Is there no one who takes your well being to heart?

Her resulting silence was his answer.

"We'll get you your galanthus," he swore, determined. And with that he stood up and faced his siblings.

"Before we close this year, I request a final display from each of you, so we can give Katniss the galanthus blooms she needs."

January and February refused outright, their replies hard as ice and sharp as the cold. March looked troubled and April merely shrugged. May glanced slyly to her left to see what June thought, while August, September and October stood pensively. But November smiled.

"Why should we?" July huffed in annoyance.

"Because I know you can't resist the chance to show a 'mere mortal' how powerful you are, Seven," Peeta answered.

"One and Two, how could you hesitate to show your might? You could stretch your legs, exert your powers a little early and give us a preview of the next two moons. Three, a little refresher now may help you decide how fierce or gentle you want your reign to be this year. And Four, can you really resist such a spotlight? She nearly died to see _your_ influence, after all."

Peeta turned to a redheaded woman. "Five, I know you'd love to sneak a little taste of your time into my reign, and Six, think of all those beautiful wildflowers!"

Eight needed little convincing, nodding fondly at both Peeta and Katniss. "Nine and Ten, don't you yearn to see your foliage so soon again? And Eleven," Peeta said with a sly grin, "I know you're always ready for a little mischief!"

As Peeta addressed the eleven months, one by one, Katniss saw his words change them, make them reconsider their stances. He had a way with words, that much was clear, because by the end of his speech, there was not a single objection.

"We'll start at midnight," he decided. "It's not long now."

He returned to her side. "Don't worry Katniss, we'll get you those flowers. I think you'll find the coming hours quite interesting. I'd tell you not to be alarmed, but I have a feeling you're not easily rattled. So instead, I recommend you enjoy the show."

Katniss felt a genuine smile break over her face in gratitude. Peeta's eyes swept her face intently.

"It looked like one of the summer months for a second there," he admitted, gaze settling on her still-smiling lips.

When the time came, January stepped regally onto the ice, the white ermine lining her robes fluttering in the breeze over the lake. When she reached the center, Katniss saw her lips moving, and a cruel wind picked up around them, whipping Katniss' loose hair in all directions. The temperature dropped even further and Katniss huddled into her furs.

A snowstorm kicked up, swirling furiously about them. Peeta leaned over and pulled her to him, wrapping her bundled form in his arms. He didn't add to her warmth, but the snow flurries around them calmed until the surrounding area contained only softly drifting snow, while the blizzard raged beyond.

After a time, Katniss peeked out from under Peeta's arms, and just made out the shape of February striding past onto the lake. Though she couldn't see far enough into the storm to make out his actions, she could tell when his portion of the ceremony was finished, as the wind howled its vehemence that much louder, and the magnitude of the storm intensified.

But still, the flakes danced gently down, settling on their heads and shoulders in cottony puffs as Peeta blanketed them from the storm. Wreathed in his arms, Katniss noticed that while his skin had been cool to begin with, the sections where their bodies met were growing in warmth, heat steadily building between them the longer they were in contact.

She closed her eyes in bliss. Katniss thought she fit perfectly, tucked snugly into Peeta's embrace. It was hard to imagine feeling fear or pain or hunger again, not here.

At length, the winds quieted and the snowfall ceased. Katniss raised her head drowsily, lulled by the safety and warmth she felt in Peeta's arms.

Her eyes widened at the change around her. As the rapidly melting ice began to shift, Three hurried from the lake center\, halting from time to time and looking back, as if not convinced the right direction had been taken.

Peeta looked up as well, smiling as he took in her expression of wonder. The ice and snow was dripping off the tree boughs onto the thawing ground, running in rivulets back toward the lake. Every few moments, the progress of the water would be halted as it froze again in its tracks.

"March is a little indecisive," Peeta explained, "about whether to end winter gradually or all at once."

Peeta leaned back, giving her room to get up. She rose to her feet and walked slowly around the lake, taking in the miraculous changes that were being wrought. Her feet alternately slipped on frosty grass and sank into the marshy ground, as the weather continued to vacillate between wintry and vernal.

Eventually, March seemed to settle on more temperate weather, and the chunks of ice left over the lake shrunk rapidly before her eyes.

April brushed past Katniss, drawing his robe from his shoulders, leaving him barechested. He sent an over exaggerated wink and a devastating smile her way before diving into the brisk water and swimming sleekly to the middle of the lake.

Katniss gazed out over the water, watching the ends of tree branches surrounding the lake grow slowly greener. Further beyond the lake, however, she could see it was still winter, the trees stark white and black, swept by winds.

But around her, the grasses were fresh and green. She could hear the mockingjays perched in the trees at the edge of the clearing, cheerily whistling. She laughed aloud at the wonder of it, spring on Midwinter's night! The sound of her laugh was almost foreign to her ears, so long had it been since she heard it last.

And then, the galanthus came. The snowy blooms sprung up everywhere, dotting the green of the shoreline with a dusting of pure, snowy white.

Katniss turned back to look at Peeta in delight. Who would believe the evening's nightmarish circumstances had brought her here? Alive, comfortable, contented, and witnessing the greatest miracle she'd ever see, surrounded by snowdrop flowers!

Peeta's answering smile was so dazzling she realized she must be grinning at him like a fool, but she couldn't stop. Katniss started toward him,with the vague but insistent impression that she wanted to be as near to him as possible. He nodded to the left though, and Katniss turned to see the basket she'd come with, sitting by the shore right where she'd left it when she collapsed.

Her real purpose returned to her, and after retrieving the basket, she stooped and began to gather.

_*~*~ **end part one** ~*~*_

* * *

**Author's Note:** This story is based off of the slavic fairytale "The Twelve Months," but more closely follows a cartoon adaptation I watched as a child (which can be easily found on youtube by searching 'twelve months cartoon,' and is quite cute).

Katniss' tale is not over yet! The second and final installment will (hopefully) be up on Dec. 21st, the winter solstice! Please come back and see what happens!

_Galanthus nivalis_ are actually early blooming spring flowers and can be found peeking out of the snow in some places in January all the way to May. This would not help Katniss however, because it is still only December. I wanted to use the snowdrop in keeping with the adaptation I remembered, so we'll assume she lives in a part of the world where galanthus doesn't bloom until April.

The cover picture is a condensed version of a manipulation I made. The larger version can be seen on my tumblr (ghtlovesthg), in the art section under 'story art' if anyone is so inclined.

Thank you for reading, and please consider leaving a review. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, this chapter kicked my butt. There were sections of this that were really hard to envision and write, and I hope they don't stand out from the rest in a bad way. This story, like every one I've written, has gotten away from me length-wise. While that can be trying as far as delivering the promised content in the promised time frame, I feel it's a good thing as far as adding depth to the story. Hopefully you'll think so too. There will be one final part (and potentially a brief epilogue) after this one. Enjoy!

* * *

_**The Twelve Months: A Midwinter's Tale**_

**Part 2**

_By GhtlovesThg_

_*~*~ _**1 **_~*~*_

April's breeze teased the hair draping Katniss' shoulders as she picked galanthus. All about her, no matter where she put her hands down, they would come up filled with dewy snowdrops. The activity quickly transformed from an urgent task to a joyful pastime. She was reminded of childhood afternoons spent in fields with Prim, picking all the buttercups, dandelions and honeysuckle their little hands could carry, then dumping them all in their mother's waiting lap. But here, in this place, the memory brought Katniss mirth, not sorrow.

She tucked the flowers snugly into the basket, fitting as many as possible. Then another layer, one upon the other as the basket gradually began to fill. Warm raindrops splashed her back and shoulders as a soft spring shower began, gentle and loving in its mildness.

As she picked, she stole glances back at Peeta from beneath her lashes. He was intriguing. Captivating, almost, but not because he held all the power of December. It was more about the way he interacted with his siblings, the way he'd treated her. Even now, several of the other months sought him out where he stood beneath the willow. She could see him laying a hand encouragingly on the shoulder of little November, rolling his eyes and smiling at July.

Though he must have seen everything there was to see many times over, the expression in his eyes was fresh, as though everything he regarded was seen anew. There was an openness about him, a willingness to engage with others, that Katniss had either lost at some point, or never possessed to begin with. And if anyone should be numbed to the wonders of the world, shouldn't it be one for whom they were a mere exercise, a responsibility every year? And yet, his sense of enjoyment at the seasons' change had been so great as to increase her own.

There was something about Peeta that drew one towards him like a moth to flame. Which was amusing, considering he was the antithesis of heat. But even though he embodied the cold, there was a deeper warmth to him, one of feeling and sentiment. And in that, she thought, he was most like December- the month when men look to the best within themselves. Peeta's brightness outshone all around him.

And the most miraculous thing was, even though he had fulfilled his promise, even now that he'd ensured her impossible task would be fulfilled and he need not concern himself with a mortal any longer, he was looking at her too. At least half the times she glanced up at him, his eyes were slanted in her direction while he spoke with his siblings.

Katniss looked back down to the basket. The flowers were nearing the top. Soon after it was filled, the galanthus before her melted away, all except what she'd picked. She looked up in surprise, only to see April exiting the lake, shaking water from his hair and shoulders as rivulets ran down his arms, grinning like a cad.

And then May appeared. At first, she was nowhere to be seen, but then the fifth month was standing at the bank. Katniss wasn't sure where she'd been hidden, but the redhead, like her brothers and sisters before her, spoke silent words to usher in her reign. Where the galanthus had been, foxgloves started to grow, and daisies followed soon after.

The trees had been lush with leaves for some time now, but Katniss noticed berry bushes along the edge of the treeline. Upon closer inspection, she found ripened raspberries and picked two handfuls.

Though she knew her time with May was limited, and that it would be many months' time before she'd see the gorgeous wildflowers again or see dragonflies lazily gliding over the gently lapping lakewater, she wanted nothing more than to go back to Peeta, to present him with the berries, humble though they were, as he'd presented her with the feast.

As Katniss approached, the other months surrounding him obligingly drifted away, as if on cue, until only sprightly November joined him in watching her approach, brimming with excitement and a slyly knowing grin. Eventually she too departed his side, giggling and gadding off along the grassy banks, and Peeta alone watched Katniss' approach. Even out of his element, surrounded by warm weather and sunshine, nothing managed to diminish Peeta; he looked lit from within as she reached him.

Standing before Peeta, the berries seemed suddenly pathetic. But they were all she had to offer. Embarrassment stilled her tongue as she stood there awkwardly.

"I see you've got your galanthus, Katniss," he said helpfully.

"That's not all," she answered, firmly deciding to go out on a limb. She set her basket down to reach into her pocket, drawing out one of the handfuls of berries. "For you," she indicated, tipping the pile into his waiting palm.

Peeta looked delighted at the humble little pile of berries resting in his hand, slightly crushed from their journey in her pocket. He sampled one and expressed his approval with a contented hum, closing his eyes to savor the taste. Katniss tasted her own handful. They were sharp and tart, and then oh so sweet. But it was his enjoyment of them that she savored most.

Once they had finished, Peeta swept his hand before her. "We should get you dried off, it looks like April got the best of you with his showers. He's like a robin in the rain whenever water's near," he described good-naturedly, "he can't resist splashing in all the puddles."

"I could kind of see that," Katniss joked wryly.

"Let's get you out of the shade and into the sunshine. Now we just wait as my siblings cycle the seasons back to winter," Peeta explained as they walked out from beneath the tree.

Soon enough, June melted out of the scenery and sat in the shallows of the lake, gazing up at the sky while silently mouthing the necessary words. The weather grew warmer as Peeta led them over to the sunniest embankment. They sank down into the grasses, side by side, and Katniss let the warmth wash over her as wildflowers popped up around them in every shade.

She sighed, closing her eyes and breathing in the sweet-smelling grasses. The May weather had gone a long way toward drying it and her clothes, and the June heat was indeed finishing the job. Katniss leaned her head to the side and carded her fingers through her wild hair. At length she laid back, soaking in the warmth of the ground beneath her.

Peeta shifted closer to her, and she glanced up at him inquisitively. Encouraged by his permissive smile, she laid her head on his knee and grinned when she heard a happy sigh from above her.

Before long, there was girlish laughter at her side, and Katniss felt something light and feathery brush her cheek. Cracking an eyelid, she saw that little November had joined them, teasing her face with a lacy white wild carrot blossom. Katniss smiled softly back, pleased that the girl approved of her presence, but also missing Prim powerfully.

"Peeta says your name is Katniss," November intimated, as if revealing a great secret. "I've never met a girl named for a flower before. I've never met any kind of girl before," she amended shyly.

"I've never met someone named November before, either," Katniss replied

"Really?" She inquired with great interest. Katniss nodded and added, "It becomes you."

November abruptly departed, but was back with more flowers in moments, setting them around Katniss' face and tucking them beneath her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Katnisss laughed.

"Flowers become you too, so I'm going to make you the prettiest flower bouquet ever. With Katniss right in the middle!"

At this, Peeta threw his head back and laughed, the melodic sound echoing through the trees like sleigh bells

He joined in, weaving dandelions into her dark locks, further adorning her. Katniss closed her eyes in bliss. Peeta's hands back in her hair felt unbelievably good, and their little trio brought her a contented, lighthearted happiness that was so missed, she almost wanted to weep. Her family had that once.

Instead, Katniss breathed deeply, and began to sing the song her mother had sung to her, the song she had sung to comfort Prim at the end. It spoke of the comfort they'd shared when they were all together, the quiet happiness at each other's presence. Now she was feeling it again, elation bubbling through her even while she missed Prim so acutely. She was overwhelmed and had to give her emotions a release, one she could only express in song.

As she began, the ever-present mockingjays, hovering at the edge of the meadow-like lake shore, fell silent, and Peeta's breath caught at the sound of her voice.

_"__Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open, the sun will rise_

Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you.

_"_

November joined in, hesitating with the lyrics that changed, but picking up the tune from the first verse. She continued arranging flowers around Katniss until the song was finished. By that time, Katniss suspected November and Peeta had made her into a whole field of wildflowers, rather than a simple bouquet.

Katniss reached out to tuck a yellow bloom behind November's ear. "Thank you for singing with me and for making me into a bouquet. Thank you for reminding me of my sister."

November smiled, and bobbed her head, pleased. She left Katniss and Peeta in pursuit of a cabbage moth shortly after.

"You rival all the flowers in this meadow ," Peeta said. Katniss rolled her eyes, embarrassed, and opened her mouth to protest. "You're radiant as the sun," he insisted before she could object, following his words with a smile so genuinely sweet and just slightly shy that she accepted the compliment without further argument.

She was so drawn to him it was hard to look away. And if she wasn't mistaken, it looked like Peeta was leaning down to her just slightly-

"Hey brainless!" a sharp voice cut into their idyll. "This is still for you, so _pay attention!_"

July strode over to the lake, aggressive as a heat wave and temperamental as a summer storm. After she muttered a brief phrase, an oppressive heat settled over them, muggy and cloying.

They sought refuge in the shaded patch beneath undulating willow osiers, where the temperature was marginally better, and Katniss loosely braided her hair in an effort to keep cool, taking care to keep the dandelions Peeta added in place. Looking up at the silvery green leaves, she wondered at how well the verses of the song she'd sung fit this night.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray  
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

As the heat broke and summer thunder distantly rumbled, Katniss turned to Peeta.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Peeta regarded her carefully, and gave her the truth.

"Because you're strong and brave, even though you're hurting. Because you're the kind of person who goes out of your way to make November feel special even though she bore a resemblance which so obviously brought you pain. I didn't know you before this night, but I am deeply tied to this forest, and I can sense its knowledge of you.

"You are like an overwintering mockingjay. You've withstood the cold for so long, enduring all the hardship life has slung at you, singing defiantly all the while. I knew you were something special when you burst through the trees, bedraggled and exhausted in your red coat, nevertheless charging toward your fate with a song on your lips.

"Because you're beautiful for the effort you make. For the peace you seek," he ended on a whisper.

Katniss had to turn away from him, looking out over the lake as she was overcome by his words. She'd had no idea he saw her like that, _thought_ of her like that. Certainly, he was knowing and mysterious, as an otherworldly being, but how could he look at a typical mortal and see..._that_.

As if in explanation, he spoke softly, "I have an eye for beauty."

She wanted to respond, to tell him that it must be because he was such a thing of amazement himself, even amongst his other siblings. He'd shown her kindness and warmth she hadn't received since her family lived, long after she'd given up on expecting such things. He stood out amongst the others like a beacon, a glimpse of hopeful brightness on the horizon after a long, dark night of anxiously awaiting the light of dawn. But she felt she couldn't, because she didn't have the right words. Surely she couldn't have anything grand enough for the twelfth month of the year.

He accepted her silence without question, and she was ashamed she'd failed to verbally reciprocate his esteem of her, for she truly felt an answering devotion to him.

July's work was finished soon after, and pleased to have Katniss' attention, she strutted away from the lake. When August began, Peeta turned back to Katniss.

"Autumn approaches, and then I follow. We recreate all the months here for you, not to merely show you our might, but because when you're in our presence, you have departed from the time in which you live. It's the reason we do not regularly interact with humans. Our lives follow a different progression and timeframe than your own mortal existence, and one cannot experience both at the same time. A human life can only deviate from its rhythm in this way twice, before losing its place in the temporal world of changing seasons and numbered years. The third occasion it stands outside time, it must depart it forever, or die upon its return. You must enter your time the way you came in, so you will need to leave us after I reclaim my reign."

Katniss lowered her head, resting it in her arms as she sat with knees bent before her. The prospect filled her with profound sadness. She didn't want to lose Peeta. She'd only just met him. But leave she must, and she'd have to accept it, sooner or later.

At least they still had a little longer. She could fill the time with learning all she could about him. Katniss would later realized that though they talked at length, it felt like mere moments.

Throughout the end of summer they revealed small details about themselves, and in early fall Peeta told her about the many celebrations that took place during his reign the world over. Katniss had no idea there were so many, or that they could be so varied, and wished she could see them.

As September blustered through, he told her about unreliable shifts in weather when his siblings would fight; Indian summers and balmy winter days. Peeta described the things he liked about shaping the winter, but also admitted to feeling lonely with only his brothers and sisters for company.

The trees around them burst into brilliant colors as the leaves turned. Katniss told him about her family- what they were like, their funniest stories, and her saddest. She let herself feel a little anger that she was alone without them, and it felt good. When she cried, he traced the tracks of her tears with his fingers, sweeping the drops off her face gently. As his fingers trailed along her cheeks, she would shiver, but Katniss was unsure if it was from the coolness of his fingers or the answering heat blossoming in her flesh in the wake of his touch. Whichever it was, she had never felt such a thing before him.

By now the spirited winds of October had begun, and the dandelions in her hair had gone to seed. The gusty bursts of wind stirred the fluffy orbs and the little florets broke free, sailing away in the breeze to join the vivid reds, oranges, and yellows of the swirling foliage. One got caught in a whorl of Peeta's hair.

Katniss reached up to remove the dandelion seed from his hair, the curl in question springing back as the wispy floret was released from the strands. Katniss glanced from her task to his eyes, and saw he was looking at her intently, his gaze flitting back and forth as he took her in. As she started to lower her hand, Peeta raised his, trailing the cool pads of his fingers across her jawline, her skin flushing in the response. With the slightest pressure from his fingers, Peeta drew her mouth to his for a whisper of a kiss. The chill of his lips tingled, cool and smooth, as he barely grazed her own. Despite the mere hint of contact, Katniss had never felt a touch so intensely in her life.

When they separated seconds later, Katniss could scarcely breathe and Peeta let out a shaky exhalation. Her lips burned with sensation. She wanted to feel the cool of his lips against her own again. She shivered at the thought.

Dipping her eyelids, Katniss leaned back toward him and Peeta obliged her, meeting her mouth with his own. This kiss was more fervent; they sought to imprint the feel of their mouths in each of their memories. Katniss tucked the curl back behind his ear, and Peeta clasped his fingers around her small wrist, holding it at the side of his head as if to keep her there.

She wasn't moving away anytime soon. She could feel a warmth building between them at each place they touched. In response, Katniss threaded her fingers further into Peeta's supple curls, dragging the locks between the gaps in her fingers again and again.

Peeta groaned in appreciation and their kiss deepened, his mouth slanting wider over her own. His skin was no longer cool to the touch, but feverish against hers. Soon, Katniss was pressing herself into him further, seeking more contact, more heat, and tugging at his lips with urgency. She heard a whimper she suspected was her own as she opened her mouth to him. Peeta's hand swooped over to cradle the back of her neck, steadying her against him as his lips kneaded at her own.

Katniss was not the first to move away. When they finally did break apart, it was with rapidly rising chests and pouding hearts. She felt exhilarated and alive, like when she hunted.

Peeta was visibly affected, too. Where he'd been pale and nearly colorless before, Katniss' color had bled into him, adding a rosy tint to his now flushed cheeks. His lips were reddened, turned a deep pink by their activity. They were wet and warm, and it was as if she had begun to thaw him, heating him up like a spark. They stared at each other, his warmed breath leaving his lips in cloudy puffs, condensing in the cool autumn air. Peeta leaned his forehead against hers. "Katniss..."

"Your eyes are the color of a starry December night," she blurted, awed.

"And yours are a December morning," he chuckled, before fixing her with a sobering look.

"You don't understand the effect you have" Peeta told her earnestly. "Since you came to this lake, I haven't been able to look away. But there can be no arrangement between you and me. You're firmly in the land of living, mortal things, and that's a world I can't follow you to."

Katniss knew he was right, and their accord would only make her approaching departure more difficult, but she couldn't resist. She pulled him back to her, and their subsequent kiss was a heated, frenzied meeting.

Too soon, they were interrupted by the rattle of dead leaves on shaking branches, and they looked up to see November laughing down at them.

"It's my turn now," she said proudly, and Katniss looked at Peeta sadly, feeling a knot of dread settle in her stomach. The night was almost over; dawn and December would soon arrive. Peeta brought one of the furs from before over to her, and bundled it around her as November began.

Once November had sung a brief invocation from her place in the tree, the last of the leaves began to fall from the woods lining the lake's clearing. Patches of ice began to form on the lake.

The other months approached, and Katniss stood up to bid them farewell. Peeta's two winter siblings simply nodded to her, but March shook her hand, and April gave her a showy kiss on the cheek. May and June smiled secretly as they clasped her shoulder.

July came to stand by Peeta and looked up at him expectantly. He sighed sadly, and addressed Katniss. "Other mortals must not know all the working of their world, Katniss, or the opportunity to weave in the miraculous diminishes," he explained.

"Twelve means to say that you better not tell anyone about what you've seen, or how you obtained the galanthus. Most mortals are not like you, and their lust for power knows no fear. Many would seek to seize abilities such as ours, if they could. We do not want to deal with power-hungry humans. Our impact on your world should remain restricted to the changing of the seasons," July insisted

Katniss nodded in understanding. She would not tell. "I promise not to speak of what I've witnessed here."

"Neither should you seek us out at whim," April added gently. "For eventually it would draw attention, and you will not be able to find your way back to us without aid." He handed her the basket of galanthus, apology in his eyes.

Katniss knew what April meant. She should not go searching for Peeta simply because she wanted to be near him.

July ruffled her hair fondly and August, September and October each bobbed a bow. Finally, November hopped down from her branch and threw her arms around Katniss in a tight hug. Once they'd separated, Katniss raised her eyes to Peeta, embarrassed to feel another tear escape the confines of her lower lids.

Peeta reached his hand out to her and motioned his head to the now-frozen lake. "Come on," he said gently. Keeping the fur carefully wrapped around her shoulders against the cold, she went with him.

Hands clasped together, one cool and one hot, but warm where they were joined, they walked over the ice to the center of the round body of water.

"I always think of creating December as a little like painting on a canvas. A person may think the landscape is drab or just white, but it's so much more than that. Layers upon layers of color," He raised their joined hands, whispering words of his own to start the change, and he helped her paint December onto the forest. Flashes of blue crackled through the ice beneath their feet as the lake froze further. Snow fell heavily but briefly, piling upon the ground in silvery-shadowed hues. He waved their hands toward the sky as the sun came up, and the most beautiful rosy-peach shade of orange suffused the dispersing bluish-gray veil of the morning. The spindly clouds sitting low on the horizon blazed forth a fiery, brilliant gold, announcing the sun's approach. Next he splayed his fingers between hers, and a coat of ice encased the branches of the trees, glinting purple, goldenrod, and azure in the light of the morning.

Katniss had never witnessed anything so breathtaking, let alone had a part in creating it. The memory would be another treasured gift. Looking over his work for a moment, Peeta gave a little nod of approval, before turning to her once more. "I think that's the best one yet," he said with a little wink.

Her delighted laughter broke the stillness of the moment, and she could tell he was pleased to cheer her up before their parting. When silence reigned once more, Peeta looked deeply into her eyes, and placed something small and round into the palm of her hand.

"I know that you are largely alone in your world, and I wish I could change that. I fear there will be a repeat of whatever circumstances brought you hungry and near-frozen to our lake."

There was an understanding in his expression. He knew that there was practically nothing for her to return to, and she saw an answering loneliness in his own eyes, stark and barren. "The most I can offer you is my friendship, and the knowledge that you have my lasting regard. Besides that, there is only this I can give you," he said regretfully.

Katniss looked down to see a pale pearl resting in the crux of her darker palm, the same shade as Peeta's hair, but gleaming with a host of muted colors, like she'd just seen threading through the palette of Peeta's December. Its iridescence was like mother of pearl, and Katniss knew this was no ordinary object.

"I give you a pearl, and not some other gem, because unlike polished stones, a pearl is a mortal animal's legacy to the passage of time. This pearl was created by a living thing, with one lifetime, and stands testament to the seasons and months it witnessed. Time was sealed into each layer of nacre, as it created something beautiful out of that which harmed it.

"I would say it fits us, a gift from time to the most exquisite beauty hardship has shaped," he whispered.

Katniss had to agree, and reached out to clasp his hand tightly in her own, in the hopes of conveying what his gift meant to her.

"Should you need me, for any reason whatsoever, you need only hold the pearl in your palm and say,

_Stop all the clocks, halt the sun here._

_Call forth the twelve months of the year._

_Pass through the dead of winter bleak, _

_Race through spring for the month I seek._

_Slip through summer, and sneak by fall,_

_Bring December to heed my call!_

Do this, and I will be at your side. But it can only be used once," he said regretfully.

"Thank you," Katniss whispered, awed.

"I know that I should hope you never need to use it, and I do. But I know that if I do see you again, every mortal moment between then and now will feel as ageless as the eternity I and my brethren know," he confessed.

"You should go now," Peeta said, heartbroken. But before she could take a step, he tangled his fingers back through hers and pressed a fervent kiss to her hand before releasing it for the final time. The words of the lullaby returned to her, as they had many times this night:

"_Here is the place where I love you."_

Forcing back her despair, Katniss made herself turn and move off the ice, in the opposite direction of the twelve months. Walking away from Peeta felt completely wrong, and she looked back at him once more. He stood, watching her leave, and she ached with each subsequent step, gripping the basket handle tightly in grief.

The sun heralding the first day after the solstice broke over the horizon as she disappeared into the trees.

_*~*~ _**2 **_~*~*_

As soon as Katniss had entered the treeline, the fur he'd wrapped around her transformed into a long winter coat of white fur. When the sunlight hit the individual strands, she could see all the colors in Peeta's pearl, all the tones and hues they'd painted onto the sky and forest.

She closed her eyes in a failed attempt to block it out. How could she bear seeing these reminders of the past night regularly? She would have to manage somehow, the objects were as precious to her as the memories were painful.

By the time she got home, her exhaustion was so great she could barely stand. Pounding on the door so early proved effective, as it woke Clove, forcing her to admit Katniss to put an end to the racket.

Katniss sleepily set the basket on the table and trudged up the ladder to her little loft room without a word about the source of the miraculous flowers.

Clove, shocked at her success and survival after that terrible blizzard, let her go. As Katniss ascended the ladder, her stepsister was just beginning to inspect the flowers, the greed and glee transforming her features. Katniss carefully hung her coat on a peg in the wall and then lay down, eagerly succumbing to sleep.

While Katniss and Merah slept, Clove tried on each of her dresses, determining which was the finest for a trip to the palace. When she could wait no longer, she shook Merah awake and showed her the galanthus.

"We should wake her and ask her where she got them," Clove said, imagining boasting about 'their' find to all who would listen in the palace.

But her mother had different ideas. "Don't be a fool! If we wake her, she may want to come with us and then she could get her hands on a portion of the gold. Especially if they start asking questions and find out that _she's _the one who got the flowers.

"We should leave while she sleeps," Merah insisted further. "The sooner the better. Go borrow that slob Abernathy's mule and cart. Give the drunkard a few coins and he'll let you. We'll go to the palace in style!"

Once she had returned with mule and cart from the nearby farmhouse, and Merah was still getting ready, Clove quietly climbed up the ladder to peek into Katniss' room. Her eyes fell on the magnificent coat, and she knew it would be just the thing to wear to the palace. It wouldn't suit Katniss at all, she'd probably just ruin it.

Pulling it on, she met Merah at the door, where the woman admired the white fur enviously. Covering the basket with a cloth to hide its contents, they set off, hoping to reach Snow's Palace by evening.

_*~*~ _**3 **_~*~*_

When Katniss next woke up, it was late afternoon. It was cold enough that frost latticed her loft window, and the spindly threads of ice shone gold in the late afternoon was reminded of Peeta's eyelashes, and instantly the impossible events of the last night came rushing back.

Wondering if she had perhaps dreamed everything, she looked for her coat. It was gone. But her tattered red flannel coat would have been hanging in its place, and it wasn't. She descended the stairs to check for the galanthus blooms, but the table was also empty, and Clove and Merah were nowhere to be found.

Then Katniss remembered the pearl, the most precious of the items she'd taken from the lake, and reached into her pocket, hoping against hope that it was there and that she had not dreamed her encounter. Her fingers touched the cool, round surface, and Katniss knew her memories were real. She had been saved last night. _Peeta_ was real. She drew the orb out to look at it.

It still shimmered iridescent, emitting a soft glow as pastel jewel-tones gleamed from within. Its enchantment was obvious, and considering the absence of her white fur and the presence of Clove's sturdy brown coat by the door, she was glad it had been in her pocket. She'd have to be careful to make sure no one saw it. There would be questions about what power it held, and Katniss couldn't betray the Twelve Months' trust like that. That, and this pearl was her last connection to Peeta.

She brought it to her lips, giving it a small peck, and running the smooth surface along her chapped lips, as if pressing a chaste kiss to the lips of the giver himself. It hurt to think that she could only see him once more in her entire life. Time passed differently for him than it did her, and he traversed the world constantly. Would he even remember her a few years hence?

She wondered how long it would take Peeta to forget her. The idea that he might was unbearable, and almost had her opening her mouth to speak the incantation, but she stopped. Peeta gave her this pearl for emergencies. She had to be practical, she should save it for when she truly needed it. And who knew how long that may be? Perhaps she'd never _need_ it, but not knowing the future, she'd hold onto it for her whole life just in case. Her connection to the wintry boy would sit in her pocket, wasted as she moved through life, forcing the regular motions of living.

Katniss couldn't dwell on this, couldn't endlessly wonder about the best course of action. She had to look to the living world and pay attention to her mortal needs. But she also didn't want to lose her connection to Peeta. He reminded her of how she might have been, had life been gentler and she'd not learned long ago to be wary and distrustful of everything, scoffing at the appearance of good fortune and counting down to the moment it went sour. Peeta made her wonder what she would have been like, had she not turned away from the goodness in life in suspicion, averted her eyes from the sun. She felt closer to that supposedly lost part of herself around him.

Perhaps the woods would help her. She'd always done her best thinking there, surrounded by her father's trees. Tucking the pearl back into her pocket, Katniss took up her bow and quiver and set out to find some food and peace of mind. She just hoped she'd be able to ignore the fact that in her heart, they were Peeta's woods now, too.

_*~*~ _**4 **_~*~*_

Princess Coin didn't bother to knock as she turned the jewel-encrusted handle of the door to the greenhouse, centrally located in the Snow Palace. This was her grandfather's crystalline sanctuary, but she had no qualms intruding. He never denied her anything. She walked silently down rows upon rows of all manner of rose species. Encased in satin slippers sewn with seed pearl accents, (a far too common adornment for anything but house slippers), her feet didn't make a sound.

She found him tending some flowerless stalks in the center of his gilded glass structure, its beveled panes and lush garden giving the scene a fairy-like quality, and inspiring the title, 'the Ice Palace,' for his retreat.

"Grandfather, they've done it!" Coin excitedly exclaimed.

The king's shoulders tensed, his hackles raised to be so interrupted.

"You know I don't like to be disturbed in here, Coin," he said with a barely repressed snarl. "What is so urgent that it must interrupt my grafting?"

Coin continued on, quite unperturbed about her guardian's ire. "Snowdrops! Peasants from the village by the Seam have brought some. But they only brought a basketful, and I need many times more than that!" she whined. "You must go and make them get some more, as soon as possible! I said I want these halls _filled_," she said with a temperamental stomp of her slippered foot.

Now she had Snow's attention. "Someone actually _brought_ galanthus? Real galanthus?" Unlike his insipid heir, Snow knew that powers beyond man must be at hand to bring a basketful of April flowers to his palace in December.

King Coriolanus had long been seeking ways to increase the scope of his power. He had begun a campaign long ago of seeking out any suspicious activity, and monitoring his subjects, looking for just such an otherworldly occurrence in the hopes that he could harness such a power for his own use. His efforts had started a kingdom-wide witch hunt, and scores of men and women, accused of performing miraculous healings, possessing psychic abilities, or having preternatural knowledge had been seized and brought to the palace. All had been tortured for more information, but none had yielded anything substantial. His subjects thought he was rooting out dangerous fiends, but he was actually combing the land for mystic power.

"Yes, but that's not the point!" Coin said moodily. "The point is they didn't bring _enough_."

Snow quickly walked past the princess and out of the Ice Palace, seeking the flowers in question. Coin followed, tripping behind his clipped pace in her voluminous gown.

He found them in one of the smaller halls, off to the side of his throne room. Minister Heavensbee was there, and servants were transferring the blooms to multiple vases as Plutarch counted out gold coins in order to fill the basket. The two female peasants watched the gold like dogs look at soup bones.

"How did you come to obtain galanthus!" he demanded in a commanding voice, and the female peasants cowered when they realized they were in the presence of the king.

"W-we got them from the forest in our village," Clove stammered. "We just found some and picked them, your majesty!"

Snow turned his yellow eyes on the older woman, as if daring her to agree with or deny her daughter's claims.

"Indeed your majesty, they were just there in the snow, in a little patch far in the woods," Merah affirmed.

"What you are saying," Snow said, tasting his words slowly, "is impossible. You have one final chance. How did you get these flowers?"

Merah looked as though she'd be ill. "Truly, your highness, we found them in the woods," she said nervously.

Snow glanced out the window at the waning daylight. "Perhaps a night in the dungeon will inspire some honesty. Then we can agree not to lie to each other."

Merah and Clove balked as their dreams of fabulous fortune quickly mutated into the very real fear that they might never see the sun again. They knew of all the country folk- midwives, apothecaries, and fortune tellers, that had suddenly disappeared, likely into that very dungeon.

"Wait! We'll tell you!" Merah screeched in terror. "We didn't get the flowers at all! They were brought to us, by my stepdaughter!"

Snow waited silently for more.

"She's a dark, backwards thing- sullen and secretive. She disappears into the forest for hours at a time, and she comes out with all sorts of plants and animals she uses for her macabre purposes."

While parts of her description of Katniss' actions were technically true, Clove understood Merah's intention, presenting Katniss as a witch to save their own skins. She took up the story. "We have no clue what it is she does there, but she's obsessed with the spirits of the dead. I know she thinks she can commune with them in that forest! When she heard about the reward for galanthus, she disappeared into the fiercest snowstorm of the year, and she was gone all night! She should have died, but she miraculously returned this morning, healthy as can be, and looking better than she has in months!"

Merah continued further. "She must have used magics to get the flowers, but she didn't tell us that! When we saw she got the galanthus, we brought them as fast as we could, knowing that you wanted them right away," Merah said obsequiously, turning to Coin in the hopes that her pleading tone would get her farther with the person who was openly admiring the flowers.

Coin was thoroughly unconcerned with the women's plight, however. "Can't this girl get more? Why did she pick so few?" she inquired angrily. "I need more, many more! And I better get them, or you shall be punished!"

But Snow was considering them thoughtfully. It was obvious they had brought the flowers for gold alone, and not for the pleasure of their monarchs, but he had seen true puzzlement in the women's descriptions of how their the girl had not only survived the storm alive, but in better health than before, and with a basket of spring flowers. This was certainly worth further investigation. Immediately.

"In light of your confession, you will not be spending the night in the dungeon, but on a coach back to your home," he instructed. "When you get there, you will make your stepdaughter go out for more galanthus. I must see with my own eyes how these flowers are obtained. I shall travel to my hunting lodge. It's close enough to the Seam. When she plans to go, you must send word, and my fastest riders will accompany me to her location. One of you must follow her into this forest, and lead the rest of us there without her knowledge. We will catch her in the process of whatever unnatural arts she practices. You will do this, or you will be executed," Snow said calmly.

Trembling in fear, Merah and Clove nodded in understanding. "Well then, you have a coach to catch. And I have a journey to prepare for. Plutarch, you're in charge of things while I'm away," the king rumbled.

The women turned to go, shaking and nervous, but Snow stopped them. "Don't forget your gold," he sneered with the smile of a serpent. "You came all this way after all. And who knows how long you'll have to enjoy it?"

And with that, King Coriolanus strode away, Coin at this heels, insisting she come along to direct the picking of the snowdrops, to ensure the proper amount was obtained.

_*~*~ _**5** _~*~*_

Katniss had been surprised to spend an entire day without Merah or Clove's presence, but she had certainly enjoyed it. Upon returning from the forest, she fixed herself a meal with the rabbit she'd caught. She'd attributed her luck in bagging anything but a squirrel in this sparse winter to the new sense she had of the woods. She felt connected to them somehow, and her sense of contentment from the night before had continued into her hunting trip. She had been less worried about catching game, and more attuned her surroundings than ever before. It had paid off.

The rabbit had been delicious. Once finished with her meal, she'd set to tearing an old washrag into strips and weaving them into a small cloth braid. She sewed a small, makeshift pouch out of a scrap of tanned hide Merah had missed when leaving on her first trip to town, and Katniss had fashioned them together into a little bracelet pouch to house her pearl. She wanted it at hand for emergencies, but mostly she wanted to keep it close to her at all times, somewhere she couldn't help but keep an eye on it.

Once that was completed, she banked the fire and turned in. Katniss climbed between the sheets and pressed the pearl to her lips before tucking it safely into its pouch and drifting off, thoughts of the giver following her into slumber.

The next morning, things were back to normal. Merah and Clove had returned sometime before the dawn, and they had climbed up to her room before even removing their coats. Katniss was rudely awoken with lots of yelling and even a nasty yank to her braid from Clove.

The first time they requested more galanthus flowers, she refused. Despite the vicious threats and promise of suffering Merah hurled at her, Katniss gave the same answer the second and third time as well. The more they asked, panic in their voices and fear in their eyes, the more they divulged, little by little.

By noontime, Merah and Clove were a wreck.

"Katniss, King Coriolanus will _kill_ us if you don't get more flowers! You're just going to sit back and let us die? He'll come after you, next! It's so little to ask, just another basket of snowdrops! How could you do this to us, your family?" Merah pleaded.

"Snow wanted to come here and see them growing himself, you know," Clove added. "But we promised him you'd bring them because we knew you wouldn't like it if the whole army invaded your woods," she lied. "We were thinking of _you_, and if you don't deliver, he _will_ come here."

Katniss stewed. She hated Clove and Merah, that much was certain. But she didn't want them to die. And her hatred for them was nothing compared to her hatred for King Snow, who had ruined the lives of healers all over the kingdom of Panem. Those that hadn't been seized in the name of the crown for suspected witchcraft had had to give up their practices. Those who practiced in secret, trying to help others in the community, were often reported to the king by petty neighbors.

Sicknesses went untreated and injuries were poorly healed. Infant and mother mortality rates skyrocketed when midwives also became suspect. Her mother, a skilled healer, had been forced to stop practicing, shunned by the whole village. No one would do business with her family, and her mother lost her spirit. Katniss' father had tried to support them off the bounty of the forest exclusively, but it hadn't been enough. They'd fallen on hard times, and her mother's depression worsened. When they'd fallen ill, their depleted stores of medicines hadn't been enough. It had been too risky to be seen doing anything but hunting in the forest, and they'd gathered very little healing materials for the winter. Her mother passed away quickly after falling ill.

She had tried to find the necessary plants in the forest to help them. but winter had been approaching and nearly everything was dead. Katniss didn't know all the alternative options her mother would have. Her father, exhausted from trying to keep the family going, fell ill next. Then Prim. No one came to help them. Everything Katniss tried didn't work. Prim was so young, the illness took her in a week. Her father recovered eventually, but he was a broken man. Come spring, he had married Merah, and Katniss had to wonder if he was trying to run from the memory of the life he lost, or if perhaps he was trying to distance them from it for Katniss' sake, so that if dire straits returned, their neighbors wouldn't be too fearful to help them. A 'respectable' wife may have been his solution, she'd never know.

But if anything, his spirits had sunk after his second wedding, and the illness her father survived had forever weakened him to others. In a few short months, he had left her, too. Katniss couldn't help but blame Snow's brutal inquisition and elimination of healers for the misfortune. Ever since, she'd gathered plants despite the risk of being falsely accused for witchcraft. The lack of healing materials had been what killed her family.

She did not want to do anything that would please King Snow. But she wouldn't be complicit to his murdering more subjects, which meant she had to get galanthus flowers to save Merah and Clove's lives.

The one bright spot was that she'd see Peeta sooner than she'd ever expected, because she'd need to use the pearl to request another advancement of the year. July would be incensed. She hoped Peeta wouldn't think her ungrateful or foolish for seeking the flowers again so soon.

Though she was happy at the prospect of seeing him, she was saddened too, for it would be the last time and she had hoped to spare the treasured visit for as long as possible. After this, all the years of her life would be without his presence. But there was no alternative.

"Alright, I'll get you some galanthus. But I'll do it alone. Expect me back tomorrow morning. Now give me my coat," Katniss said, glaring at Clove, who still wore the white fur.

"You can use mine. You're just going to the forest, you wouldn't want to ruin this one," Clove hedged. Katniss snarled, but Merah broke in.

"Get going, our lives are on the line here, and you're worried about your _coat_?! You'll get it when we get the galanthus!"

Katniss was furious. She wanted to show her appreciation for the coat by wearing it to the lake when she saw Peeta, but it wasn't worth incurring Merah's wrath. The woman seemed on edge and volatile, and Katniss was surprised she hadn't lashed out yet. Knowing how duplicitous the two were, she'd just have to be sure to hold the galanthus over their heads until Clove returned it.

Katniss laced up her boots and put Clove's brown coat on. After wrapping up some leftover rabbit meat and slinging her bow and quiver over her shoulder, she left the house, noting that it was beginning to snow as she walked in the direction of the woods.

Merah turned to Clove. "_Follow_ her, and make sure she doesn't see you! It's a good thing she didn't fight us on the coat, because it will help you blend in with all the snow. I'm going to Abernathy's to use his jabberjay. I'll be there with the king and his troops as soon as I can. _Don't_ lose her or it's both our necks!"

And with that, Merah rushed out of the house. Clove followed after, but turned in the direction Katniss had taken, careful to make sure she waited until Katniss was out of sight and couldn't see her. Clove planned on following her footprints in the snow, but the falling flakes were worrisome. If it took a while for the king to reach them, Merah would have difficulty finding the footprint trail under a fresh snowfall.

As she passed the old apple tree, Clove yanked out the knife she'd thrown into the trunk just two days ago. She'd have to mark some trees just in case.

_*~*~ _**6 **_~*~*_

Tired of banging on the rickety farmhouse door, Merah eventually just forced it open. The stench she was greeted with was awful, but at least the man she sought was close at hand.

After shouting at Haymitch Abernathy to awaken with no response, she resorted to kicking his chair out from under him.

He came to, snarling like a beast as he crashed to the floor.

"What the hell is going on?" Haymitch roared, cussing a blue streak.

"You fell out of your chair."

"S'that so?" he mused suspiciously. Merah ignored his question. "I need to use your jabberjay to send a message. I'll pay."

"Oh yeah? Well where's the cart and mule I loaned you yesterday? I'm not made of money here, _darlin_'," he sneered.

Merah had forgotten about the cart and animal they'd hired from Haymitch to get to the palace, far too concerned with staying alive on their coach ride home. "You'll get your cart! I need your Jabberjay, and I'm in a hurry!" she blustered, throwing down three of the gold coins Prime Minister Heavensbee had given her on the table.

Haymitch's eyes widened. That was real gold. That was a lot of drinks. Plus, he needed to repair his farm, he'd let it fall to ruin to pay for his booze, but he knew he needed to start raising geese and chickens again if he wanted to continue to purchase alcohol. He used to be the best raiser of birds in the Seam, and loaning out his jabberjay occasionally these days wasn't cutting it.

"Alright, alright, keep yer shirt on, I'll get it." When he returned, he refused to leave while she conveyed the message. When he heard exactly which hunting lodge she wanted the trained bird to deliver the message to, the source of the gold on his table suddenly made sense, but not the reason for it.

When the bird flew off, Merah turned to leave, and Haymitch grabbed his coat, following her out.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"Following you," he said.

"What?!" Merah spluttered. "You'd better turn right back around! I don't need your slovenly hide skulking about! This is important!"

"So's my farm, darlin,' and I ain't leaving your side 'til I get my mule and cart back, or see some more of that gold," he growled.

Powerless to stop him, Merah turned angrily back to the path that led to their cabin, to anxiously await King Snow's arrival.

_*~*~_** End Part Two **_~*~*_

* * *

The plot thickens (always wanted to say/type that)! I will try as hard as I can to have the conclusion up in a few weeks. Until then I'll be working on a picture for alonglineofbread and yourpeetaisshowing's Fandom Charity Drive participation gift package (an event ending 12/31 that you should definitely look into! Search "fandom charity drive" on tumblr!).

Was it clear to everyone who the months were? I hope so, I put some tiny and not-so-tiny clues in there, depending on the month/district tribute.

For those that reviewed, followed, and favorited this story – you are wonderful, you made my week!For EVERYONE that has read this far, thank you so much! For anyone getting notifications on this story, I do want to alert you that I may go back and change little things when I post the third part, if there's a detail I forgot or discrepancy I find when looking at the completed project. I've never done a publicly submitted WIP, and I'm still getting used to not having all my ducks in a row before posting. :P

Have a happy holiday all, and if you want to read a REALLY beautiful everlark fairytale, one of the best reads the whole fandom has to offer, head over to Mejhiren's cozy, wintry "When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun" (if you somehow have not stumbled upon this gem yet), and be sure to leave a review! You will not regret it!


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